


i don't know you (but i could)

by toast (aone)



Series: five word prompts [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aone/pseuds/toast
Summary: you’re not a fucking therapist, you’re not a music critic, you’re not even a friend—what the hell do you know, as a stranger?





	i don't know you (but i could)

**Author's Note:**

> "do it. i dare you." + taeil
> 
> [ _five word prompts_ ](https://bananaseok.tumblr.com/post/179400689864/five-word-prompts)

you don’t expect to walk past music outside of an abandoned warehouse, but you do.

creeping forward, boots rustling the mixed patches of dry and green grass growing through the cracked concrete, you strain your ears to try and discern if what you’re hearing is the real press of keys or something playing from a phone or speaker. you reach the rusting metal doors, smiling when the sound drifts through the opening, and squeeze through.

the warehouse itself isn’t too bad. it’s filled with all sorts of old junk, odds and ends, trashed trinkets, and objects that seem like faux antiques and should be getting sold at shops marketed at tourists. you inspect a tiny snow globe with a red-cheeked cherub and resist the urge to pick it up and shake it.

the place would also be considerably well-lit during the daytime due to the small sections of roof that have collapsed from disrepair, and the rectangular windows scattered across the high walls. given that it’s currently pushing evening, you’re having more trouble navigating through the maze of period pieces and straight up discarded furniture.

you’re nearing the source of music when you start to come upon occasional LED tea candles, all on as if leading the way to the performance. rounding a haphazard stack of wooden dining chairs, your eyes settle on a silhouette haloed by the real, flickering candle sitting on the top board.

that’s definitely a fire hazard but you stand there, listening and soaking in the surge of emotions that arrive with the crescendo, and exhale softly as the pianist finishes with a somber set of notes, music fading away into the faint sound of the breeze slipping through the pulled seams of the building. you’d clap, but you feel like it’d fill the silence too much.

“that was beautiful.”

you raise your voice to no more than a whisper but the person startles, nearly knocking over the stool in their haste to get up, nearly knocking over the candle atop the piano which he quickly blows out, throwing you into darkness.

the little LED tea candles can only do so much.

“who’s there?!”

you throw your arms up on instinct. “a new admirer! i was just passing by and i heard someone playing a piano! i’m not here to murder you or anything!”

you hear a huff.

“that’s reassuring.”

“i realize how unconvincing that sounds. does it help if i say that i’m just a teenager?”

“so am i, but plenty of teenagers go to prison for murder.”

touché.

“i just wanted to see who was playing music at an abandoned warehouse of all places.”

“you’re crazy. what if _i_ was a murderer?”

“are you?”

“...no.”

you smile a bit, itching to walk forward.

“then i think i’m in good hands.”

lowering your arms, you take a cautious step forward, willing your eyes to adjust to the shadows. you hear rubber catching on concrete and think you see a figure shoot behind a pile of moving boxes.

“i swear i’m not bad.”

“and i swear i’m not either, i’m just… kinda bad at being social.”

relatable.

“well… i was going to say ‘hey there, nice skills’ instead of ‘that’s beautiful’ when you finished, but that sounded way too awkward.”

you get a laugh in return and you try to walk around the piano to where the boxes are, and you hear footsteps going further away from you again. stopping in your tracks, you squint.

“are we playing tag and seek?”

“i guess?” another laugh. “i’m bad at this, i told you. and having a sense of anonymity helps.”

that last sentence sounded strange. like it was a little too tight, too pinched as it was vocalized, like it wasn’t meant to be said. the quiet that follows feels like it’s filled with muted regret.

“i understand. no face, no identity, nothing personal.”

“right.”

you catch sight of a tea candle dying out and pat your pockets for your phone. in case you really find yourself stuck in this dusty labyrinth, you’ll still have a flashlight to help you find a way out.

“shouldn’t you be out with friends or something? it’s friday, shouldn’t you be having fun now that school’s done for the week?”

“i could ask the same for you.”

footsteps lead away from the boxes that you can sort of see now and towards the heaps of disposed furniture. you follow gingerly, toes stubbing on pallets and... dressers? you’re just glad you’re wearing strong boots.

“i don’t really...”

go out much? do things on the weekend? have many friends, or at least many extroverted ones?

“i don’t really do things… with friends… that much.”

i comes out so stilted that you wonder if it’s the truth. as much as wanted to be known, at least.

“then i guess we have each other in this moment,” you nod, _does that sound weird? too intimate?_ “i have to ask, have you been playing for a long time now?”

“i mean, is three years long?”

“i’d say so.”

“then yeah. i picked it up a while back. had to get a hobby.”

_had to?_

“you play really well. well, i think you do. i’m not very musically-inclined, but i can tell when someone pours their everything into something they do.”

“pours their everything.”

“yeah! in the way a person dances, flowing between rigidity and fluidity with ease at just the right times. in the way a painter’s strokes range from short to smooth to curling to quick and chaotic… in the way a musician doesn’t sit still while their fingers fly across keys or pluck strings, and lets their emotions enhance their performance.”

you hear a shaky breath slip past loose lips.

“and what emotions enhanced _my_ performance?”

you fixate on a head of hair peeking out from behind an old-fashioned sofa. it’s dyed, you think. the weak light of a nearby tea candle reveals a deep violet.

“the feeling of being lost. wanting something but not knowing what it is. you can’t put a name to it but you desire it anyway. maybe a bit of anger, pent-up frustration just waiting for a match to ignite it. sadness without a reason for it, or rather, with a large reason for it. but more than anything…”

_am i overstepping?_

“a vacant loneliness. you’re aware of it, despise it even, but you’ve also accepted it as something you can’t change.”

you’re not a fucking therapist, you’re not a music critic, you’re not even a friend—what the hell do you know, as a stranger?

“you don’t know me.”

you really don’t.

“but how can you know that much?”

the voice cracks under years-long pressure.

“i could know you.”

take a deep breath.

“if i step out into the light… where you can see me.”

_and where i’ll be, so you can see me too._

**“do it. i dare you.”**

it’s choked, but it’s a laugh, so you join in too.

“don’t you think it’s a bad idea to dare an introvert?”

a shadow moves and you mirror it, walking slow towards the sliver of evening sunlight a cracked window let in.

“it crossed my mind.”

you step into the peach-orange glow first, eyes finding the heat and strong light unwelcome.

“my name is moon taeil.”

the sunset washes over rich violet like crystalline champagne and you recognize him, know him, but only by a name called out from the class roster and a tiny smile that seemed like all he was able to give.

“i believe we’re in the same class.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you guys want the other two prompts i wrote for, i can post them here too!!  
> this is just my favorite out of them so far ♡ mr moon needs more love


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